


Anatomy Of Murder (Rewritten)

by detroit_becomenerd



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Human AU, M/M, Manipulation, Mind control/Re-education, Murder, Stockholm Syndrome, Tags will be added as its written, Torture, serial killer nines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 07:04:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20149624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detroit_becomenerd/pseuds/detroit_becomenerd
Summary: My previous Anatomy of Murder fic wasn’t as well written as I wanted and became far too fast paced. This is now a more slow fic with Conan Shaw (Nines) becoming transfixed in three different detectives and how they become what he wants.





	Anatomy Of Murder (Rewritten)

Conan Shaw was a far from average man. While he appeared normal with above average looks, how he truly acted was beyond so. He would do the basic deeds a human needed, use the restroom, consume meals, function in every day society, but within this mind? That was a completely different story.

He was a killer, one trained from a young age as he practiced on small creatures. Frogs, mice, squirrels, anything his destructive little hands could manage to bludgeon with rocks from the creek in his backyard. His father was absent from the picture, and his mother would try to fill the void with alcohol and men of all ages. Such a lovely childhood he had.

His first victim was a boy in grade school. He had been playing with him, swimming in the lake by the abandoned railroads in his town. He had forced him under, watched as his face turned blue and he sank below the reeds. An accident they called it. The boy had drowned when he got caught in the roots of the plants, unable to swim his way up. School had been canceled the next day so none of the students would have to grieve.

Though Conan hadn’t grieved. The death of the child had brought a sick satisfaction to him. He enjoyed having the control of another’s life, of being able to snuff it out like a simple flame of a candle. Conan craved that power, the power he lost to the throws of his childhood, the power he was denied to each man who came into his life. This was what he could control and he loved it.

That’s why more kids suffered accidents. Little things that no one could pin on him. Jessica tripped and fell down the stairs while walking to lunch with Conan and some other friends. Lucas’ bike brakes had gotten loose due to lack of maintenance and he went head on into traffic. Harold had stopped breathing in the middle of the night when Conan and some other boys had stayed over. Monica had fallen into the deep end and drowned.

Little accidents. That’s all they were. Though Conan knew better. He had tripped Jessica, given her that little push that sent her tumbling down. Lucas’ brakes were easily loosened with his mother’s boyfriend’s tools. Harold’s medication had been added to his portion of the night time snack. Monica has been pushed and cracked her head when she fell in. No one could prove he had done anything, simply a child who witnessed misfortune.

Most kids kept their distance from him, some calling him a curse. Stay away from the Shaw child, you’ll die if you get close. A silly urban legend that oddly held some truth. Some kids still talked to him, but other than that, the rest of grade school was lonely. That is, it was until Connor Stern had arrived. Connor was a few months older than him, and many kids thought it strange how they looked so similar.

It wouldn’t surprise Conan if they shared the same father, as Connor was adopted into his family. Connor was sweet, and they seemed to be neck and neck in who did better in academics and sports. Despite Conan’s urban legend, many kids couldn’t truly deny he was intelligent, nor could they deny how he seemed to excel at everything. Many grew resentful for such skills, while others silently marveled at how such a talented child could become so disliked.

Though Connor seemed to like him. He would follow him around, and he’d ask to come over and play games with him. Many of Connor’s friends would be surprised when he came back alive, repeating all the horror stories of kids dying around him. Though Connor didn’t seem to care. Conan and Connor were close, and that was all that mattered to the older boy.

They remained friends all through out high school and college, with Connor becoming a police officer and Conan becoming a nurse. They would commute to their works together as they weren’t too far apart, and they’d go out for lunch when they could. Though the façade could only last so long. Connor had been tasked with the case of the Nines killer, a man who took nine careful steps to kill and dispose of his victims.

1\. Isolate them.  
2\. Incapacitate them.  
3\. Make them vulnerable.  
4\. Torture them.  
5\. Kill them.  
6\. Clean them throughly to remove DNA evidence  
7\. Keep the bodies in a place to reduce decay.  
8\. Find a location to dump the body. (Usually set up to throw off police)  
9\. Dispose of body.

This was what the police had concluded after the twentieth murder to have had similar conditions. All had been killed much earlier than decay showed. All had been tortured in various ways, and they’d all been staged. It didn’t help with copy cats trying to stage their horrendous crimes and blame it on the Nines Killer, but usually one would forget a very early on step, or just hastily try to pin it on the serial killer running rampant in Detroit.

It had been years, since they’d graduated, so it only made sense for Connor to be put on the case. He had steadily raised through the ranks to become a detective, and Conan had become a head nurse at the hospital. They still drove to work together, and they still occasionally ate lunch, but Conan could see the stress on Connor’s face.

He didn’t like it. He had come to care too deeply for Connor, and to see him not smiling at him? It was almost too much to handle.

“You’re stressed Connor.”

“Ah, am I? I suppose work’s been difficult. Hard to get a wink of sleep when you’re chasing a serial killer. Not to mention that my girlfriend keeps me up at night with her kid.” Conan’s jaw tightened just a hair at that. Yes, how could he forget. The child and the whore who managed to keep that part of Connor’s life away from Conan. Conan wanted Connor all to himself, and he would let nothing get in his way.

That’s why, it wasn’t surprising when the body of Kara Williams and her daughter Alice Williams had been found. Conan had deliberately made sure DNA could not be traced back to him, even removed their fingernails post mortem and simply dumped their bodies in the woods. It was an even more delightful feeling when Todd Williams took the fall, the abusive and alcoholic father who everyone knew hurt the girls. He vehemently denied any involvement but most wanted him in jail regardless.

It gave Conan a sick sense of satisfaction as Connor weeped into his shoulder, devastated by the loss. He was his comfort, gently shushing him and allowing him to stay in his home until the hurt passed. They certainly grew closer in the weeks of healing, and when they began to date, Conan could almost say he was happy. Though men like him don’t truly feel happiness. He was a monster, and Connor was a shiny thing that would soon dull.

Though for now, Conan would try and keep him shiny. Picking off friends who disapproved, the occasional stranger who’d been rude, and the single family member who had gotten too close to figuring out Conan. The mysterious murders that seemed to circulate around Connor made everyone wary. Was he the next to be killed? Or was he himself the Nines Killer?

He’d lost his role on the case, stuck to simple desk work while he felt like he was slowly rotting away. Life was dull. No one trusted him. It was all too much and yet not fulfilling enough. Conan didn’t like to see his things so lifeless. He’d bring Connor back to what he wanted.

Connor Stern went missing from the word eight days later, and no one had seen him since. Conan was good at playing concerned boyfriend, visibly disturbed that his lover was missing. He easily went under the radar. Though he knew exactly where Connor was. In the underground basement of the shed. Only Conan was aware of it, something he made himself. 

Now no one could have Connor but him. He was his and his alone, and Conan really liked that. He enjoyed walking down to feed Connor, loved to see him look so terrified at the one he used to love. Love or not, he would keep Connor. He didn’t want to kill something with such lovely eyes. Nor something that screamed so beautiful when he dragged a blade along his chest, nicking the pale skin here and there.

He took care to hand feed Connor, forcing him to eat what he brought. Connor didn’t seem to trust the food even though Conan promised he wouldn’t poison it. Then again, he could understand the lack of trust. He’d made Connor trust him one way or another. So Connor’s re-education began. He’d be woken early in the day before Conan had to work. Conan would feed him, and then they’d begin their lesson. Connor would scream regardless of what the torture was, and Conan adored it. His sensitive body reacted so nicely, and Conan could almost come from it alone.

The bruises that lingered whenever Conan was a bit rough, the marks that would linger but never scar, it was all so delicious. Connor broke slowly, not wanting to submit to the cold faced monster that walked to the basement every day. He didn’t want to give in to Conan. Conan was a killer, a monster, and he didn’t want his life to be given to him. Though at times his control slipped. Conan would caress his face after a particularly rough “lesson”, and Connor would lean into it just ever so slightly. Conan would praise him whenever he didn’t resist a punishment, and Connor would actually enjoy the praise. It was disgusting and gratifying. Connor despised and loved it.

Conan’s patience dwindled whenever Connor would be particularly disobedient, sometimes striking his face and leaving him without food for the day. Though he’d come back the next day, an apologetic look on his face as he whispered sorries and bring a little dessert with Connor’s meals. It was manipulative, but Connor could feel it breaking him further.

Connor fully broke six months after his imprisonment in the small basement. He gave a sweet smile to Conan as he entered, enjoying the presence of the only human contact he ever got anymore. Conan was absolutely thrilled to see that smile, and once he went through the lesson without a single hiccup or refusal from Connor, he knew he was ready to come back to the surface.

Connor wasn’t allowed to leave the house, but he was given a full spa treatment. After being in the basement for so long, he needed a bath, which Conan happily gave to him. He was careful and gentle, the touches so soft and loving that Connor craved more of him. They’d exchange kisses through out the bath, sweet little pecks that were given to simply satiate Connor’s need for affection and contact. He was certainly starved of these gentle touches. After the bath, Connor was given a hair cut. Conan did a well enough job that it didn’t look too bad when dried. It was better than the ragged mess from before with dried blood and saliva matted to his hair.

Conan dressed him in one of his dress shirts and some boxers before kissing him sweetly.

“Connor, you must never leave the house, alright?” He spoke gently as he put what could best be described as an ankle bracelet for those on probation around Connor’s ankle. It was most likely to prevent Connor from leaving the property, but Connor didn’t even seem to want to leave.

“Alright, Conan..” Came his whispered replied as the ankle bracelet was locked around him.

“Such a good boy.. I will be back at noon. I took a week vacation off for after just to spend it with you, so be good for me, okay?”

Connor nodded.

“Of course, Conan...”


End file.
